Candy Colored Skies
by purplemud
Summary: Candy fics One shot fics from all seasons: Come back to me. To us. Like the way we were before. Let me love you. I need you.
1. Snowflakes

**Snowflake**

**Author**: Grace (purplemud)  
**Disclaimers**: Roswell does not belong to me.  
**Spoilers**: [Season 3] Samuel Rising  
**Feedback**: Please! I love to know what you guys think.  
**Author's note**: Kinda like missing scene from "Samuel Rising" I love the way Michael calls Maria "Snowflake" It's just too sweet!

Snowflake.

He smiled at the elf standing beside him. He could smell the essential she wore today. It smelled like eucalyptus and something flowery. Probably rose or jasmine. It suited her. And the season. All green and red.

The kid on his lap was babbling about Playstation 2. How he would love to have it underneath the tree for Christmas. He wanted it so bad that he was willing to talk it out with dear old Santa.

Half listening, Michael nodded as the chirpy happy voice of the boy enumerated all the good stuff he'd done the past year to deserve the sleek black gaming console.

In his head, Michael was reciting the things that he could do this Christmas to have Maria wrapped in red satin and delivered to his house by Christmas morning...make that Christmas Eve.

"Hey, Santa?"

He turned at the kid, "Huh?"

"You listening?"

"Yeah. Playstation II." He said nodding thoughtfully.

"Or a puppy." The kid beamed at him, "I'd really love to have a puppy ok?"

"Sure. Sure."

"I want a Dalmatian Santa."

"We'll see." He said suddenly struck by a memory. Maria's memory. Sitting by the steps of their house, a Dalmatian resting against her knees, and the feel of the dog's heartbeat beating in unison with her little child heart. The warmth of the sun. The warmth of the memory

The mom, standing with the elves finally called the boy, "Times up, Jamie!" and grudgingly, the kid hopped off his lap.

Michael, watched the kid go and then sighed. He wondered how many more Christmas wishes he had to listen to for today. He had the patience for the kids; it was the fact that these kids would be expecting those gifts because _he_ said they'd receive it that bothered him. He hated the deception. Why weren't the parents of these kids telling them the truth? There is no Santa. There are no flying reindeers, with red-lit up nose and there are no elves.

But there's Snowflake. There's always Snowflake.

He glanced up at her and decided he needed to hear her voice again. "Hey Snowflake, can you tell those kids that Santa needs a few minute break."

"It's not yet lunch break and Iz told me..."

"Well, Iz isn't here, and Santa is not feeling so hot."

Snowflake regarded him for a minute, gave a miserable sigh and sauntered off towards the queue of laughing boys and girls all waiting to have their chance to meet Santa.

There was a collective groan and a few name calling directed towards the elf. Snowflake handed it very well and the line disappeared in no time. She returned to her spot and sat on one of the customized chairs that was made to look like a bent candy cane.

She was keeping her word. She was staying away from him because she needed space. But he didn't. So after a few moments of hesitation, Michael stood up and sauntered towards her. Casual. Nonchalant. A betrayal of how his heart was whamming painfully against his chest. "Hey, Snowflake,"

And exasperated Maria-sigh. "What _Michael_?"

"It's _Santa_, ok?"

Snowflake rolled her eyes. "Yes, _San-ta_?"

Okay. Syllabication. A clear sign that Maria was not amused by any of his antics.

"You wanna go get something to eat?"

She looked up, gave him a dirty look before pouting at him.

Oh, God, those lips.

"What?" He asked feeling like he did something wrong when all he did was invite her for a nice friendly ex boyfriend-ex girlfriend lunch.

Except, of course he knew she was asking for a little space. But when did he ever actually did anything that he was told to do? He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Once, twice and just when he was about to throw up his hand and possibly throttle her, she made a helpless, miserable sigh.

"Well?" He asked, sounding harsh and impatient.

She was probably a little hungry and lonely, because after a few seconds of scowling at him she agreed. Well, not so much as agree but more like suddenly standing up, turning around and walking straight ahead.

Michael followed her. He'd always follow her. He might always have the strangest compulsion to defy her, but he'd always go wherever she'd go.

It felt weird to walk beside her and be silent. Oh, they've done this a lot. Walking around town, not speaking, just his hand wrapped around hers. Small and his – her hands, her silence. Their silence. He liked that a lot.

The quietness then was comforting because he could turn any moment, smile at her and know everything was ok.

But this was a different. Because now he had to sneak lightning fast glances at her, trying not to grab her hand, lead her into a corner and just kiss her.

Old habits just wouldn't die.

He led her towards a new food store, one that didn't serve all those meat-veggie burger crap. This one sells ice cream and snow-cones, and those frozen penguins that leave blue ink on your tongue.

"Lunch?" Snowflake asked him dubiously.

"Yeah, I mean, we're from North Pole right?"

His attempt at humor earned him a small smile. The slightest curve of her lips.

But it wasn't really from his joke.

When they were going out, on one of their passion laden heavy making out session, he would catch glimpses of her childhood. It wasn't a happy one, sometimes he wished he never get to see some of the sad part, because it broke his heart seeing the little blonde girl cry over spilled lavender perfume or at a dead kitty she buried in the playground. But this one memory struck him. This memory was filled with joy.

It was Maria's 7th Christmas and her mother had treated her to an ice cream parlor and she was given the freedom to order as many stuff as she wanted. And the little blonde girl with big round olive green eyes was laughing and smiling all the time. And she was happy, truly blissfully happy.

He never had the same sort of happiness. In fact he hated Christmas for the very reason that Hank always made it a point to ruin it for him. Countless time, he had asked for a single Christmas decoration, he had lost hope of ever seeing a Christmas tree in the dammed trailer, but maybe a star or an angle, or a snowflake. But there was none. But there were plenty of beatings, even on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning.

But last year, she had surprised him with all these Christmas decorations and on his door frame was a single snowflake.

"C'mmon, Snowflake, my treat."

His Snowflake smiled at him, really, truly smiled at him. That Maria smile. That smile that belonged to him.

She wordlessly took his hands and led him inside the store.

Michael's heart soared. From this one touch. This one smile.

Christmas – not Iz's Christmas, but _his_ Christmas – held a different meaning for him. It wasn't giving and receiving. It was second chances. And maybe, just maybe, this Christmas would give her back to him too.

His snowflake, the one that Maria got him, still hung from his bedroom ceiling, directly over his head. His real Snowflake however was in a better place. She was in his heart.

-End  
Okay. This was written some two hundred years ago. No, actually it was written around 2002. I'm just reposting it now, with some minor changes. The original version can be found at the Candy is Dandy board. I think I will repost all my Candy fics here. I don't know why I never did. Is that weird? Anyway, I know it's out of season and short and all, but I hope you guys liked it. Please feel free to tell me what you think. Thanks so much for your time! Take care everyone!

my twitter: /_purplemud


	2. English and Science

**Title**: English and Science (1/1)  
**Author**: (Grace) purplemud  
**Rating**: PG 13  
**Summary**: Michael finds another excuse to be with Maria  
**Disclaimer**: I wish I own them...but sadly, I don't and I can't. Standard disclaimers apply.  
**Notes**: Set right after Behind the Music. I altered a few things, like Michael still going to school, because I personally think that it was really rotten for the writers of the show to make Michael work at MetaChem and give up his studies, although it seems like what Michael would do. Hope you all like this one. Please feel free to tell me what you think. C&C are greatly appreciated. I know the title is a little lame, but I couldn't think of one at the moment so... Well, on to the fic, shall we?

**English and Science**

Their English teacher was absent and you'd think that they'd be having a field day now relaxing by the bleachers catching a bit of sun. But no, there always had to be a substitute teacher.

Apparently Mr. Norris wanted the class to read chapter something from one of the thick bounded book assigned to their class. And then, supposedly, as he himself had just heard about this very recent development, they were tasked to write an essay about Tragedy.

Yeah, capital 'T'.

Half of the class was reading while the other half was pretending to read. Michael belonged to the pretenders and so did Kyle Valenti who was sitting beside him. Kyle was snoring into the armchair, the book covering him quite nicely. He watched Kyle for a second and was tempted to wake him up, but the substitute teacher didn't seem to mind much since looked quite absorbed with reading the book too.

Boring. And that's with a capital 'B', too.

Michael yawned and looked outside the window.

His breath caught in his throat. Outside, sitting on the bleacher was Maria DeLuca and Liz Parker.

One: clearly, this was the height of unfairness. Maria could not be skipping class because she's with Parker, who'd never miss anything that is school-related. So why are they allowed to have a free period while he was stuck with this stupid class?

Two: of all the places they can go, they just had to pick this spot. The spot that he could so very, clearly see.

Three: this doesn't really go against Maria's rule of trying to stay away from her, right? Sure, this was close to stalking – but he'd done the actual stalking before and she had, possibly found it sexy enough, because they did end up making out after being caught standing by her bedroom window – so if he sat all through English class watching her (preferably without her knowing), he won't get into any sort of trouble with her and her silly Non-Dating Rule.

Michael very quietly angled his chair just a little bit more. Liz had her head bent down, immersed in one of the girly-things he could never quite understand: painting her toenails. From here, he could see the red blood nail polish the brunette was holding and from the color alone, he could guess who owned the itty-bityy bottle.

He turned his head and looked at Maria.

Her head too was bent down, hiding most of her face. But for once, she wasn't engaged in one of her "arts". She was busy reading a book and again even from his position he could see the title of the tattered book that held her attention. "Little Men."

He should check that one out in the library, he reminded himself. Maria didn't just randomly read books. She read them for a reason. Although what she might find interesting in Little Men escaped him. Wasn't that like a sequel to Little Women? The books about that Jo girl who wanted a huge school?

Okay. So maybe he won't check that out anymore.

Michael found himself staring at her lips. Red and luscious. Slowly moving. He couldn't make out the words and he couldn't concentrate enough to try to decipher the movements of her mouth. Not when he was thinking of kissing her right now. And that was something he couldn't do and hadn't done in a long time.

Maria had wanted the space. So he was giving it to her. The girl was stubborn as mule. His Maria.

As though having spoken her name out loud, Maria straightened her back and turned to look at the general direction of their school building.

Thank God the human eyes weren't as sharp. He could see and sense her frowning.

Maybe even at him.

Maybe she didn't need to _see _him to know that he was watching her. After all, he can quite feel her glaring at him.

_Busted_.

Sighing, accepting defeat, he turned his head away and mentally switched on the voice recorder in his head. He was in no mood to read, so instead he listened to Maria's voice.

She had been reading Romeo and Juliet the last night they were together. She was cuddled in his arms, the book propped against his chest. He half listened to the story and just let her voice lull him to sleep. When it came to the part that Romeo had drunk the poison Maria started crying.

"What?" Michael asked her not unkindly.  
"It's just so sad."

"So stop reading it." It seemed like the rational thing to do; besides he hated seeing her cry.

"But it's so beautiful...."

Fucking ridiculous.

He snatched the book away from her threw it across the room. It fell at the corner with a loud thump. He then rolled over her so that she was pinned underneath him. Her green eyes were shimmering with tears as she looked up at him questioningly, his outburst not so much of a surprise for her anymore.

He stared at her for a long time and regretted that he thought of her outburst as ridiculous.

It was sentimental, maybe even naïve. But it was heartfelt.

"You're beautiful when you're sad. How can that be?" He asked her a little breathless. And then almost regretted saying it because it sounded so stupid in his ears, like all of a sudden, he was spewing off lines from 18th century poems. Suddenly, it seemed to him that his tongue had been candy-coated, too sweet...too sugary. He needed a little spice. And he bent down to capture her lips. Sweeping his tongue inside. All sweet and spicy. His Maria.

When they pulled apart, gasping for air, he was half-worried, half-expecting to see the teasing glint in her eyes. He was already readying a few caustic remark of his own, should she mention how "sappy" he sounded but he was surprised to see her smiling up at him. The same sad smile on her face. She reached out and gently touched his face.

"You're beautiful when you're angry...you're always beautiful Michael."

He smirked at that one, unsure if she was serious or if she was trying to top his "sugar-coatedness".

And she kissed him. And he kissed her back. And thus, all logical thoughts faded back. And everything was about heat and warmth.

He hadn't thought much about what she had said then because his mind was busy with the kiss among other things, but what she said had somehow stuck.

Michael turned towards Maria again, not able to stop himself and even though she seemed perfectly happy and normal, there was always a trace of sadness in her. He wasn't sure if people see this or he was just being a ridiculous sap.

_Sadness can be a beautiful thing. But only if it's true. The true kind of sadness. The kind that was rooted deep down, that even the brightest smile couldn't hide._

Michael wondered what made Maria so unhappy lately.

That he couldn't figure it out, that was the whole tragedy of them.

He should know how to make her happy, happy to make her glow. He used to know, but somehow he must've forgotten. Or she had changed and he just wasn't enough anymore.

Well, Michael thought, that's something to write about tragedy.

He ripped a piece of paper from his notebook and wrote down the words, frowning at how semi-pretentious it sounded. He'd have to work on that one.

The bell rang signaling the end of the class and Kyle almost jumped upright from his seat. Michael snickered at him as the substitute teacher announced that the paper would be due tomorrow, the rest of his words loss on Michael as he headed off towards the exit with the rest of the class.

"Hey, where you going?" Max asked from behind him.

"Gonna ask Maria about something." Michael said moving his chin to indicate where Maria was.

Max saw her almost immediately, but that was because Liz Parker was sitting right next to her. He turned at Michael raising an eyebrow. "That's not exactly giving her the space she needs."

Max was starting to repeat himself and Michael had to grin at that. "The space _she_ needs." Michael said "I have a paper to write and she's the expert on the stuff, I'm not going to get an F just because she wants her space."

Max shook his head and let his friend wander off outside, not at all believing that Michael just needed the grade...he needed the girl and what better way to do it than annoy her and ask her for help in writing a paper for English class. Certainly, Max thought, he could do better than that. And without another thought, Max hurried towards the exit clutching his science report, following Michael out.

"Where are you going?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Science project." Max answered, nodding at Liz's direction.

Michael rolled his eyes, "Science project. Oh, yeah, Maxwell, totally romantic."

Max glared at him. "What's wrong with a Science project?"

Michael shook his head, snorted. "Nothing. You, Liz: science. Makes sense."

"What, and you, Maria and English do?"

"Not if I can help it." Michael said before quickening his pace, leaving Max to frown and scratch at his head. Sometimes, there was just no point in trying to understand his friend.

-end

End Note: Still from 2002. And original, found at Candy is Dandy fanfiction board, is slightly different. I did some editing and now, this makes less sense the original version. Haha.


	3. Broken

**Title**: Broken  
**Author**: (Grace) purplemud  
**Disclaimers**: Roswell not mine... *sigh* what a depressing thought  
**Summary**: From "Cry Your Name" episode. Michael was just sooo sweet in this ep. I couldn't help but write this.  
**Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews. I hope you all like this. Feedback is very much appreciated. Thanks.

**Broken**

Her bedroom smelled like her. Sweet and a little minty, like jasmine and eucalyptus combined. Subtle and strong. That was what she was. That was how she should be, not broken and torn and defeated.

Maria gave another whimper and kicked the covers off her legs. Michael sighed and picked up the ruffled sheets. He stood there motionless for a second, clutching at the discarded blanket, willing himself not to break down. He had urged her to sleep. She needed the rest, she hadn't listened to him when he asked her to eat dinner, she refused to take a light snack and the last time she ate was during her lunch break at Crashdown and that had been hours ago.

It seemed to him like a whole eternity had passed and time had cruelly slowed down ever since Valenti had walked in on Maria and told her the news. He wished Valenti had kept his mouth shut, at least waited until Maria was with them. He didn't know what it had been like for Maria hearing about Alex's death at the backroom of a greasy smelling kitchen with all of her friends laughing just behind the door... when minutes ago everything was just fine.

But it didn't happen that way, and she had received the news first.

He shook himself from the memory and leaned forward to smooth gold silken strands off her forehead. She sniffed a little and snuggled her face deeper into her pillow.

"Alex."

His throat tightened. She whimpered his name again and curled up her body into a tight ball. He hated seeing her like this. So un-Maria-like. The brightness she used to have, it was suddenly snuffed out of her. He covered her body again with the jasmine-scented sheet and sat down on the edge of her bed.

His weight caused the bed to creak, the sound shattering the stillness inside the room. He wanted so much to make it better for her. But it's not like he can do anything about it. Alex was dead. Even Max couldn't change that. Max healed, he didn't bring dead people back to life.

Still, they had hoped, they had wished and they had prayed.

But Alex was dead. And it was going to stay that way. No amount of concentration, special alien powers or healing stones can ever change that.

Michael swallowed hard. He had never really thought about death like this. Like something that could happen to him, to one of them...to her.

Sure there was Nasedo, his death did stir something inside him. Aliens die. They weren't invincible creatures that can survive a bullet or maybe a car crash. But it didn't get him like this.

It didn't render him so brokenly.

Because this death, this one broke her spirit. And he knew that whatever happens, even after a hundred years, Maria, his Maria would never be the same again. Something inside her died with Alex tonight. He swallowed the burning lump in his throat and paused for a whole second. He could never be what Alex had been for Maria. Alex had been a solid friend and he would've known how to comfort her.

Michael felt useless.

Worst than that feeling, was the thought that plagued him, that made him feel sick. What if Alex's death was somehow related to their alien conspiracy? What if he was killed because of them?

He looked at Maria. He had seen her sleeping before. Many times he would stay outside her window and just watch her sleep, because he always found peace in her. But he knew that sleep would never come easy for her. Not anymore and dreams would haunt her - the peacefulness of her slumber was now marred by this death.

On impulse, he knelt down and sought her lips. Not the hard passionate kiss that would wake her up, but the kind that she loved, the kind that she needed now. Soft, slow, filled with love, filled with sorrow.

"I'm not going to let this happen to you Maria." He told her, knowing that she'd never really hear him, knowing that she wouldn't like what he was telling her. "No one's ever going to hurt you. I'd rather die myself. And if that happened you'd forgive me, won't you? Because I don't think I'll be able to survive without you."

And he wanted to make a promise, that he'd never let her succumb to death. Not ever. But he can't.

He would give her his life willingly, if it ever came to that. Better him than her. Else, how would he survive a world without her smile?

"Michael..." She mumbled suddenly, as if hearing his unvoiced promise and he knew she'd contradict it with passion that would leave them both breathless from arguing or kissing as it would most always end up whenever they were in a heated discussion.

But much as he wanted to kiss her right now, breathless, hot and hard, she needed the rest.

"It's ok. Sleep. I'm here." And he held her hand for a few minutes, trying to remember one of his many lectures with Isabel on dream walking and tried putting it into good use. He concentrated on her. Just her, the sleepy-greenness of her eyes and her uneven breathing and he tried to use some of his alien powers to coax some sleep into her.

_The prom. We were happy then. You were dancing. Twirling around. White dress floating around you. We danced a slow song. I didn't step on your feet. It was perfect. _

When her eyes fluttered shut, Michael pulled back and heaved a soft sigh.

_I promise. I'll protect you forever._

He left the room only when a ghost of a smile reached Maria's lips.

_-end_

Okay. Something from 2003. I know it was really short and all. I do hope you liked reading it. I apologize for any grammar errors or misspelled words that I missed. Feel free to point them out so I can make the necessary changes. I guess that's it for now. Again, thanks for your taking your time reading this.


	4. Across State Lines

**Title**: Across State Line  
**Author**: (Grace) purplemud  
**Summary**: Erm, I forgot the Episode title, sorry, (I think it's How The Other Half Lives, but I'm not too sure...) It's from Season 2, when Michael and Maria were on their way to Tucson, Arizona...  
**Author's Note**: Another one-shot. I hope you enjoy reading it. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks so much.

Across State Line

The road ahead of him lay bare. The dessert stretched on and he could see dark figures moving about the vast and dark expanse of space all around them. There weren't many cars tonight and Michael was really not at all surprised, after all no sane human ever ventured the desert highway during this time of the night. He glanced at the clock; the blinking numbers stared back at him blankly, greenish, mocking him. 3:15 a.m. Three fucking fifteen a.m.

Well he probably wasn't nearly sane enough or human for that matter so he guessed it was ok of him to travel this road. This was exactly what he was known for. Driving in the dark, getting himself into trouble. He glanced at his side and sighed, getting _other_ people into major fucking trouble.

He stared at the road again, not at all sleepy. He would occasionally spot trucks and trailers from the roadside although more often he would see the glowing eyes of nocturnal species staring at him their bodies hidden from his sight and crazy as this may sound, their eerie eyes seemed to be communicating with him.

_Get a grip Guerin_, he scolded himself and tried to brush off the thought that those creatures might not be so earthly at all. Like him. Almost exactly like him. Like maybe the fucking thing or creature or whatever you call it that Max had found in Polman Ranch.

He glanced at his side again, unable to stop himself. His two companions looked so out of place. He checked Laurie from the mirror and saw that she was sleeping, curled tight like a ball, her golden hair standing up in all directions, spilling across the dark leather seats of the Jetta. Her hair reminded him of Maria's only Laurie's was a shade lighter; not as vibrant and bouncy as the golden halo on Maria's head.

Hell, everything reminded him of Maria.

Michael squinted his eyes, focused his attention back at Laurie. He was almost half sure that if he looked close enough he'd discover that she's sucking on her thumb.

Well, if he had been buried alive on the ground for still unclear reasons and then see the younger version of his Grand Pa (which actually would be him), he'd freak out pretty badly too.

Maybe not in the sucking-his-thumb sort of freaking out. But there'd be some sort of destruction somewhere. Rocks to explode. The usual.

He shifted his eyes and stared at the road ahead of him blatantly ignoring the girl seated beside him. Because if he looked at her, then he'd stop driving, turn around and bring her back home. Back to Roswell, New Mexico. Where she would be safe, away from all of these fucking alien-save-the-world-crap he had pushed her into. What a happy teen-age-alien life he had. All the unnecessary human-angst and surviving high school just wasn't enough. He had to suck at dating and all those emotional stuff too. And oh, let's not forget his non-human status. Perfect. Just too fuckin' peachy.

He clenched his jaws and told himself not to look at her.

Of course Michael knew that he'd check on her too, it was inevitable, it was part of his reflex now. And so he stole a quick glance at her berating himself for his weakness and stopped breathing all at once.

He saw parts of her. Her blonde hair, normally tied or scrunched up (by the weird twisting black thing she so loved to wear) fell gracefully down her shoulders and he was itching to reach out and touch the silken strands. Her lips were slightly parted, teasing him, beckoning him, begging him to kiss her, but he knew this would happen so he was prepared. He bit down on his lower lip and tried to draw out blood, it was better tasting his own blood than having his thoughts filled of how her lips would taste. Like strawberry. Sweet, luscious strawberry.

Damn.

He averted his eyes back to the road. The last thing he wanted was to end up in freak car accident all because he was imagining how Maria would kiss him back and put her arms around him to pull him closer. But still, that didn't help, because he found himself stopping the car and switching off the engine. He was shaking now. He had to regain control. He turned towards her again, this time seeing her whole face, her whole body.

She was sleeping peacefully as always. Her forehead rested on the window and that was one of the reasons why he was driving oh so carefully, because yesterday, he remembered Maria hitting her head on the glass when he drove across uneven road and he hated seeing her wince in pain. Her arms lay limply by her side and she looked almost comfortable. But Michael knew she wasn't.

She should be in her bed right now. Sleeping on her soft mattress, wrapped in her lavender blanket, wearing her baby blue night gown. But no, he had to drag her here so he won't crack up, so that he'd be able to do everything asked of him in a rational logical way. And so here she was sitting awkwardly beside him trying to catch a few moments of precious sleep. When was the last time she had eaten a real meal and not the greasy food from the roadside dumps they had been feeding on, huh, Michael?

He knew the answer to that one. The night before he had her up the roof spying on Laurie.

And when was the last time she had her nice warm shower?

He also knew the answer to that. It was at their brief stop over at a motel because Maria insisted that her hair needed severe conditioning, after all, she hadn't planned on having a road trip to God knows where.

When was the last time she had laughed? He knew the answer to that one too. It had been last week, before this whole Laurie incident started stressing her out. Just hours ago, she had been complaining that her Cyprus oil was now almost empty. She had been sniffing it a lot and although she tried to hide it from him, he knew how tense she was. How scared she was for Laurie, for Max and Liz and the rest that were still in Roswell and most of all for him...of all people!

She wasn't supposed to be here. She's supposed to be at her home. With her friends and family and not on some mission to save planet earth from an evil alien race or whatever it was that's been hounding him and Max and Isabel and Laurie.

Laurie too. She shouldn't be here. Her life had been twisted inside out and upside down all because of this alien stuff. It wasn't fair for her.

Emotionally bonding with her, as Maria would call it, gave Michael another rare chance to see how much he had complicated someone's life. And then more surprising was the glimpse of kindness and trust in Laurie's eyes that he only used to see in Maria.

He turned at her again, not able to stop himself. He reached out as if to touch her face and then drew back almost immediately. How selfish of him, to want her awake, to hear her voice, to see her eyes, to watch her smile, to argue with her....to kiss her....

She needed the rest. She needed a lot of things, this not being one of them. But for all of these finer points on why Maria should not be in this car, on this road and with him, Michael knew that he'd never want it any other way. And he was mad at himself for wanting that. What right did he have? He hated it that she always had to be with him or else he would be so lost. Without her, he wouldn't have even considered talking to Laurie.

And was it just the other day, he reminded himself angrily, that his heart had painfully slammed into his chest when the kidnapper fired shots at them and he was nowhere near Maria. That he would never be able to protect her because he had left her to save Laurie was perhaps one of the reason why he didn't only unarmed the guy but actually damaged the hood of the car... well ok, so his target was off but that wasn't the point!  
If she had been shot he would have no power to heal her and he would have knelt by the dirt and watch life seep out of her. He'd be broken and even Max would never be able to fix him. He was sure of it.

Michael fought the urge to scream.

Maria. God, her courage of steel, if he could just have a fraction of it, he'd be able to turn the car around and bring her back to where she belongs. Anywhere but here.

But he also knew that Maria would never have it that way and that was the reason why he couldn't look at her for this long. Because he knew that she loved him, would do anything for him...he hoped that dying for him wasn't included in the crazy things Maria DeLuca was willing to do for love, because it that happens, if her brightness disappears, then nothing would matter to him anymore. Nothing.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Only Maria can make him feel so out of control by absolutely doing nothing at all. She had that much power over him and that scared him. He shook his head and started the engine once more. He switched on the headlights and was back again on the seemingly endless road towards Arizona.

Across state line. Amy DeLuca without a doubt wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. And he didn't blame her either.

_End

More circa 2003 fic. I hope you enjoyed reading that. Well, I guess that's about it for today. I might try looking for some of the other fics that I've lost and maybe post some of them here. If they aren't so embarassing that is. As always, feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for your time!


	5. Back To Me

**Back To Me**

**Author**: purplemud  
**Rating**: PG 13  
**Disclaimers**: I don't own Roswell. Gah! What a depressing thought that is!  
**Summary**: Tag to Who Died and Made you King  
**Author's note**: Wrote the fic based on a spoiler, without having seen the episode, so there are some changes/scenes that didn't actually happened on the show.

He was right. The realization hit her so hard; she was surprised that it didn't knock her down. When he said those words to her she had felt as though he had struck her physically. He had every reason to be mad at her, to hate her.

She walked the dark deserted street of Roswell, New Mexico. She didn't know where to go. She was tired and her feet hurt but she couldn't just stay in one place. She had to do something. She had to think. She needed to stop thinking. She needed to stop feeling altogether. Maybe that would make things easier for her.

Max had gotten his birth-right back. Jesse was safe, Michael was back to his old-self, the glowing "V" thing now gone in his chest. She should at least feel happy for that fact. It meant that whatever alien take-over that had gotten into Michael was now over.

But still she couldn't help but feel defeated, like every event that happened had been a physical blow to her. There were still bruises on her wrists, on the palm of her hands. She had put ice over them for the whole night, but they never faded as if it would stay on her skin for a long time to remind her of that night.

The way he had roughly pushed her out of the car stayed with her, she relieved it over and over again - making it seem less real, but she could remember every little detail. The way the red Jetta gleamed in the night, with the street light throwing the color red haphazardly unto the street. How quiet that night was, she mused, like it was just waiting for that anger - Michael's anger to just explode. She remembered the way Michael's eyes had been. So hard and cold and angry. But still, there was the pain in there too. In his voice, in the way he had held her stare, everything about him reeked of pain.

And she knew that she caused that pain. That she had wounded him worst than anyone had ever had. Probably worst than Hank and she had to bite down the sudden urge to stop and sob right here, on the exact spot she was standing on.

She hadn't meant to hurt him. Hadn't meant to make him feel that way. But she suddenly realized that being with Michael limited her. She barely lived, there were so many things that she wanted to do and she couldn't. Giving up on her dreams without a fight was something that she didn't want to do. It just wasn't her.

She just needed some time to be herself again, to be away from all the alien crap. It had begun to smother her and she needed to breathe. It was the situation that they seem to be perpetually stuck in that was limiting her. Not Michael. Not their relationship and certainly not the way she felt about him. Because what they have together was the one thing better than her dreams. It was her reality. Michael was her reality.

She wished she had told him that when she had said goodbye.

She didn't know that he felt that way, that he had thought that it was him who was smothering her. She thought - she had hoped that he understood.

Maybe she was just selfish.

He stayed for her. It was the first time he had ever told her this, his voice accusing, anguished as if she had betrayed her and maybe, in a way she did. Maybe she deserved to be thrown out of the car, maybe she deserved more and worse. She hugged herself and still felt so cold. He was right. He was so fucking right and he had only told her that night. Or most probably, she just wasn't listening the first time he had told her.

_You never listen! I stayed in this planet for you!_

_No! I loved you!_

Loved you. Ha, what a great big fat lie that was. She still loves him. Would probably continue to love him for the rest of her life. Up until the very last moment that she could remember his name, his eyes, his lips, his hands. There was no way she could ever bring herself to forget anything about Michael Guerin. He was tattooed in her skin and flesh and bones. She shook her head, no deeper than that... Michael Guerin was tattooed on her very soul. Permanently. And she had lied to him again. Told him that she _loved_ him - past tense. Liar! She was such a liar! She wondered how Michael felt after hearing that. He probably hated her even more.

She bit back an angry sob and started walking briskly, she had to get away. She had to get away from all of these

She took a step and staggered, almost willing to let herself fall into the hard pavement. Her hand clawed the air, but there was nothing to hold on to, nothing to break her fall and just when she had closed her eyes all but ready to crumple down on the ground someone grabbed her and pulled her upright.

She knew immediately who it was. Michael. God, she knew him so well. She didn't know how to explain, she just knew his touch, his smell, his breath. It scared her, it excited her. It made her feel so alive and confused at the same time. All of her senses burned from his smell, his touch, his strength.

He steadied her. She didn't look at him; instead she bowed her head, letting her hair cover her face. What was there to see? Guilt? Pain? Shame? A little of each of those emotions? Worse, maybe there was nothing to see in her eyes anymore. Blank and empty.

He didn't say anything. That surprised her. She was half waiting for him to say something... anything at all to her. Some cruel comment on how weak she, was that she was such a cliché, blond, dumb and clumsy. But all she could hear was their mingled breaths. Had they finally ran out of words to say, after all, he had told her what he really felt that night hadn't he?

His arms were around her waist. She stared blankly at his chest and noticed the prints on his shirt. Thin endless dark blue lines. Her arms hung limp and lose by her side. He had her trapped, but she wasn't going anywhere at all. She was tired of running. Of trying to hide from him and her feelings.

She felt him loosen his grip on her and just when she thought that she would be free to bolt from his hold, his hand found her wrist and brought it up. She still hadn't looked at him. She heard his sharp intake of breath and realized that he was probably seeing the little cuts and the bruises on her palm.

She tried to wrench her hands from his grasp, but he held on firmly. She used her arms to push him away from her, still not looking at him. Her resistance was useless. He had her and he wasn't going to let her go. And for the first time, Maria felt that she could be honest with her self. She didn't want him to let go either.

"Look at me." It was a command and Maria knew Michael well enough to know that when he used that tone of voice there was no way that she can ignore it. She looked at him straight in the eyes.

Oh God. Such sad eyes. She had never seen him like this before. "I-I'm..." She stammered for a while. "I'm sorry Michael." She whispered softly, this time admitting defeat and letting her tears fall. Her chest heaved with the silent sobs she was trying to contain within her. What was there to cry about? She wasn't the one who had been betrayed. She swallowed hard and tried to get back at staring at Michael's shirt when she felt his arms going around her waist again. Trapping her again. And he was so very warm. She shivered.

"Did it hurt?" He asked his voice low.

She shook her head. "I thought - I...You hate me...I'm sorry." She apologized again. This time, she was successful in wriggling her way out of Michael's embrace. She immediately felt so small standing next to him. And yet, she has _his_ heart on _her_ palm.

"You hurt me a lot, Maria." There was no hint of accusation in his voice. Only sadness. So infinite, so poignant...

"I'm..." She started to apologize again. She'd apologize all her life and she would still be ready to face the coldness of his un-acceptance, after all, he has every right to feel hurt and betrayed and angry. In fact, she wondered when he would start shouting at her again.

"Don't." He said it with a quiet force that made her look up at him again. "Stop. I don't want to hear it."

"I know." She managed to say nodding her head sadly.

"What I want to hear is..." He paused for breath, as if afraid of what he would say. And then, "Come back to me."

She frowned. At first too afraid to let the word sink in. But when it did, it felt as though he was pushing her off the car again and she was falling and she was so sure that she would hit the pavement this time. Blood rushed to her face. She looked at him again. There was no trace of pleading in his voice, in his tone. It was so plain and simple to him. Come back to me. Period. No ifs, no buts.

_Come back to me. To us. Like the way we were before. Let me love you. I need you. _

He said all these with just those words and suddenly it was like her heart breaking all over again, too small to hold the happiness and joy. She couldn't breathe.

She swallowed hard and then leaned her forehead on his chest. She could feel and hear the pounding of his heart. It was so fast and loud. She took deep lungful of air. Her breathing grew noisy and Michael began to worry.

He let his chin graze her head, the smell of her...Maria, assaulting his senses. He was near her again, near enough to feel the erratic beating of her heart. He felt the hot wet tears that were beginning to soak his shirt. "Maria..." He winced at the sound of her name. It was like another name for pain, for suffering and she must have heard the way he said it because suddenly his shirt was now crumpled in her balled up fist and she clung to him. He held her tightly.

"Take me back, please."

He heard her say these words. There was a pause and he suddenly roared with laughter, hugging her tighter, crushing her to him, if he could will it so, he would absorb her into him that way she would never escape him again. But she pulled away from him and he let her. Her confused face was marred with pain and yet, there, back on her green eyes, was the mischievous glint.

"Stupid human girl." He berated her. And he bent down, caught her by surprise, her mouth slightly opened and he kissed her. Hungrily. A man deprived of his life source for such a long time. He pulled her up to him, almost lifting her off the ground and she was kissing him back and blood rushed into every vein in his body, making him throb and ache at the same time.

Maria. Maria. Maria.

She pulled back, but he followed her eagerly, capturing her lips again, wanting to be soft and wanting to bruise her at the same time. Kiss her as hard as he could.

"Oxygen" he heard her mumbled and he grinned, the sudden joy filling him up. He let her back on the ground and watched quietly as she took in large gulps of air, her cheeks flushed.

"Is that a yes?" She asked after a moment. She looked up at him, there was still that sad smile on her face and he kissed her lips sweetly.

"What do you think?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

She sighed and then looked at the ground and then back to him. "Why?"

"Because I stayed in this planet for you. Because you're my home. Because I love you. There are a lot more reasons, but these are the ones that I think would clinch it." He said seriously.

Maria sighed and then surprising him, she grabbed him and kissed her, a woman deprived of her life source for so long. She pulled away again, "I'd like to hear the whole list Spaceboy." She said.

Michael smiled. "You would. Later. But for now..." And he leaned down to capture her lips again.

"You should've thrown me out of the car a week after we broke up..." Maria said kissing Michael on his chin, and then on his neck, trailing wet wonderful sweet kisses upwards to the corner of his mouth and back to his cheeks again.

"I should've." Michael agreed, doing the same thing. He kissed her deeply, finally carrying her off the ground swallowing the giggles that escaped her lips.

-End-

Notes: Ah, the last of my old fics. And erm, that's it. I hope that you enjoyed reading this. Anyway, as always, I would appreciate any feedbacks, positive or negative. Thanks!


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